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“What?” He takes a sip from his beer. “Used him as a fuck buddy?”

My eyes widen, and I glance around to see if anyone’s lingering nearby. Not like it matters. Mom knows. Bennett obviously knows, since he helped Joshua ambush me the other day. Even Wyatt knows, although I never told him who I slept with.

The only person who doesn’t know is my dad, and I’d like to keep it that way.

“I didn’t use him as a fuck buddy,” I insist. “Things got complicated. I had to end it.”

“Did you, though?” Bennett counters.

“What are you talking about?” I hiss. “I’m pregnant.”

“So?”

“With Wyatt’s baby. The baby we’ve been trying to have for years.”

“I’ll ask again… So?”

“You wouldn’t understand, Bennett. You’ve never been married. Hell, you’ve probably never even been in a relationship that lasted longer than a night or two. I’ve been with Wyatt since high school. I can’t just throw that away.”

“Pretty sure that sack of shit did when he cheated on you.”

“That’s in the past. We’re trying to move on from that. From both our mistakes. I’m trying to do what’s right.”

“Right for who? You? Or that jackass you keep making excuses for?”

I jump to my feet, glaring at my brother. “I’m doing what’s right for my baby.”

“Sure,” he scoffs. “Whatever you need to tell yourself.”

I spin around and head toward the stairs. But before I can slip away to somewhere I can be alone, even if for only a few seconds, Wyatt comes out of the den where he’s been watching football all afternoon.

What else did I expect?

In his mind, Christmas is a day to watch football. Not a day to spend time with family. He’s always been this way. But this is the first year I’ve noticed it.

Will he be like this once we have a baby of our own?

Will we have to delay opening presents because it’s almost kickoff?

Will he miss important milestones of his or her life because he doesn’t want to miss a big game?

“You okay, babe?” Wyatt asks, a beer bottle dangling from his fingers.

I summon a smile. “Yeah. Just need to go check on Gary.”

“Don’t take too long. We should get going soon. I still have some work I need to do before we head down to LA tomorrow.”

“Of course.”

I continue up the stairs and disappear into my old bedroom, collapsing onto my bed. Gary nuzzles against me, and I scratch his head, allowing myself to rest my eyes for a moment.

But the instant I close them, Joshua’s face flashes before me. It doesn’t help that my sheets still smell faintly of him. I haven’t washed them since he made love to me in this very bed.

No. He didn’t make love to me. We had sex in this bed. It wasn’t love. It can’t be.

Because once I admit it was love, this will hurt so much more.

Who am I kidding?